The Bluebell Field, Where Hyacinths Grow
by DarkHorseBlueSky
Summary: Eighteen-year-old Bell Zarcero had her first kiss at a high school party. Somehow, even her expectations weren't low enough. / Blue ZirconxYellow Zircon 90's human AU, inspired by Drawbauchery's AUs on Tumblr. M for language, suggestive content, and because teenagers suck.
1. The Beloved, Part I

**The Beloved, Part I**

* * *

In short, this wasn't how Bell Zarcero expected to have her first kiss.

She...wasn't actually sure how she expected to have it. She didn't make a habit of thinking about it often; Bell was a girl with a big future and a big to-do list and, quite frankly, a big nose. It had been a long time ago when she had accepted the reality that boys didn't like girls with noses like hers, a fixture reminiscent of the Wicked Witch of the West and the Evil Queen's old crone disguise in Snow White. It hurt more in middle school but by now Bell didn't mind so much, so long as she avoided mirrors and the idle daydream of what her first kiss would be like.

But whatever ghostly hopes had lingered in the back of her mind, they weren't _this._

"This" was Mama calling her down to the kitchen at 5 PM on a Thursday, usually a sacred time that Bell would spend in her room doing homework. Even Mama — master of the loud rock music, feared throughout Southern California — wouldn't interrupt homework time. Except for, apparently, phone calls.

" _MIJA!_ Phone call from your friend!"

Bell put down her pencil and frowned. "Coming, Mom!" she yelled back, because Mama didn't take well to waiting. There were, however, several problems with what Bell had heard. First, her friends didn't typically call her, period. Second, her friends were all nerds and they all knew that Bell more or less qualified as one as well, so immediately after school she would be doing nothing more than homework. Conclusion: this was not a friend. As Bell crept down the stairs to the kitchen, she couldn't help but swallow nervously.

The phone lay abandoned on the countertop, and Mama had returned to her pots and pans on the stove. "Isabel, for you," she said, nodding her head to the phone.

"Who was it?"

Mama shrugged. "White girl. Very rude."

"Unfortunately, that describes about half of the girls in my school," Bell murmured, slipping behind Mama to reach the phone. She loved her mother, but both of them agreed that Mama was altogether much too wide for a kitchen so narrow. As Mama hobbled around with hot pans and bowls, Bell sat on the countertop next to the landline and carefully picked up the phone. "Hello?"

At first she heard nothing from the other end. Then voices far off, as if a conversation was happening elsewhere in the room, and finally a few bumps as someone picked up the phone on the other end.

 _"Hey, this is Isabel, right?"_ _  
_

Inadvertently, Bell's shoulders tensed up. She knew that voice. "Yana," she said coolly, but through gritted teeth. Yana Zaranti — the girl who was everything that Bell wasn't. And Bell couldn't stand it.

 _"Yeah,"_ was all that Yana said at first. Then she sighed. _"Look. I don't want to do this, but I don't exactly have another option. I need to ask you a favor."_ _  
_

Bell raised an eyebrow, even though Yana couldn't see it. "A favor."

 _"I'm glad you heard me correctly. Yes, a favor. Will you do it?"_

"What's the favor?"

 _"My parents are out of town this weekend, so I planned on having a little party between me and my friends. Here's the catch — I asked Natalie Kentworth if she could come, but she's grounded until she turns in a super late research paper for history. I would help her finish except that I'm far too busy. Instead I asked her if there's anyone who could help her and she mentioned that you're in her study hall, so my request to you is that — "_

"You want me to write her paper for her," Bell cut in, folding her arms. "No. That's not going to happen."

 _"I never said that,"_ Yana replied. _"First of all, Natalie is so dumb that she can't count her toes. If you wrote her paper, Mr. Manson would know, and that would be stupid for both of you, wouldn't it?"_

Bell chose not to respond. Yana took this as permission to plow on.

 _"What I'm asking is that you help her finish it, then polish it up well enough for it to get, I dunno, a D minus. That's all I ask. I'm sure it will take less than a few minutes; likely not even your whole study hall."_

"I want to be paid."

 _"Paid?"_

"I'm glad you heard me correctly," said Bell pointedly. "I want to be paid in cash, fifty dollars minimum. Extra fines applicable depending on how much trouble she gives me."

She could _feel_ Yana's mood withering through the phone line. _"How about twenty dollars?"_ she said, clearly trying to sound confident. But what Yana didn't know was that Bell had lived with her aunt and uncle in Cozumel for three summers, working for them in a shop that sold "authentic Mexican souvenirs" to tourists. Bell knew how to haggle.

"Forty-five," she said.

 _"C'mon, Izzy! Really? Thirty?"_

"Forty. That's my final offer because I would prefer not being called Izzy. You're rich, you can afford forty dollars."

There was a hesitation, which Bell hadn't expected. Then Yana groaned. _"No. I'm really not. I've already budgeted for this party. Sixty for the booze, forty or so for the food plus whatever food that other people bring, fifty for a new outfit, and fifty for some new CDs. I tried to ask my parents for extra money, but they're already suspicious of why I plan to spend two hundred dollars in a week, and said they wouldn't give any more until my Sunday allowance. You know how it is."_

As Yana rambled on, Bell looked around her condo's tiny kitchen. Next to her on the counter was the pile of bills that Bell always did for Mama, who was often confused by the complex legal jargon. Bell looked down at her jeans, threadbare from overuse and rolled up under her knees to hide the fact that they were too small. When she lifted her head, the refrigerator was right in front of her — with a smiling picture of Dad, dressed all up in his military camouflage, his once-proud dreadlocks shorn down to a bald brown head. The postcard attached was too far for Bell's old glasses to read but she knew what it said. _Bell: don't give up! It's going to be hard without me and I wish I could send home more money but you can get through it. I've already asked to come home for your high school graduation. Love you to bits._

Finally Bell closed her eyes and told Yana, "No, unfortunately, I don't know what having a two hundred dollar allowance is like."

Yana obviously registered the venom in Bell's tone and seemed to try changing tactics. _"Okay. Whatever. Just...I don't have the money now. But I will."_

She sighed again, and then a shuffling that sounded like her putting her hand over the receiver, then muffled talking in the background. Then Yana returned.

 _"Listen. If you help Nat I'll pay you fifty dollars like you asked, and…you can come to the party. I can even hook you up with a guy, Alice's best friend's brother totally likes nerdy Hispanic girls with glasses."_

"I'm flattered."

 _"Just...please. C'mon. I really want Natalie to be at this party. I'll even pay you the full fifty when I get my allowance again."_

"I'll think about it," said Bell stiffly.

 _"You just have to help Natalie tomorrow at study hall. And if you come to the party you have to swear not to tell anyone what happens there, unless they were THERE, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life. But that's all."_

"I said I'll think about it," Bell repeated. "Goodbye, Yana." She hung up before Yana could say another word.

Mama looked up from stirring the rice and beans. "Your friend?" she asked.

"Not really," Bell replied.

"Was it drugs?"

"What? Mom, really?"

A smile spread across Mama's face. "Sounded like paying for drugs."

"Mom. I don't do drugs. I'm scared of needles and I have asthma."

The mischievous grin grew wider. "Prostitution?"

"No! Ew, gross! What the heck, Mom."

"Prostitution, then. Extra fines for how much trouble she causes you."

"NO! C'mon, Mom!" Bell rolled her eyes as her mother laughed like a ten-year-old boy. "I was contracted by a girl to help another classmate write an essay."

"For forty dollars? You should start a tutor business."

"Fifty. She's letting me attend her party as some sort of really weird collateral, but I really doubt I'm going to go."

Thinking the conversation was ending, Bell hopped off the countertop and tried to slip past Mama to go back upstairs, but suddenly Mama turned around. She couldn't move fast because of a bum knee and she was a good hand shorter than Bell's five feet and eleven inches, but she was also much stockier, and in general it really was hard to ignore a grey-haired Mexican lady with seven ear piercings and two sleeves of tattoos from her punk rock phase in the 70's. She raised an eyebrow at Bell.

"Isabel. Did you hear yourself? You've been invited to a party."

Bell glanced uncomfortably to the side and folded her arms. "So?"

"You've never been invited to a party!" Mama exclaimed, her eyes bright. "I have been telling you, get out of your room, go talk to people, this could be your last chance!"

"Yeah, that's not happening."

"Why not?"

"It's not like a good party, Yana literally said she's buying booze for it!"

"But it's fun. And you haven't smiled in six years."

"You were literally just on my ass about me doing drugs and having sex and that's exactly the kind of party that is."

Mama made a face and turned back to the stove. "You say that like I've never been to a party like that. No party is ever as wild as you think it'll be. You get uncomfortable, you call me and I will pick you up right away."

"Unbelievable." Bell threw her hands in the air. "My own mother is trying to convince me to rebel."

"It's good to make mistakes sometimes."

Bell blinked. "W...what?"

Sighing, her mother closed the lid on the food, set down her ladle, and turned to Bell, putting her hands on Bell's shoulders. " _Mija,"_ she said, her dark eyes soft, "you know I am very proud of you. You are eighteen and a beautiful young woman. In a few months, you are about to graduate as the — the vel — vali…"

"Valedictorian."

"You are about to graduate as the valedictorian of your whole school. And that is wonderful. But I look at you, and I see a girl who is not happy. You see all of your classmates going off and doing fun things, and you want to do them too, but you keep telling yourself that success and following the rules are the only things that mean anything in this world. That's your father in you, that's how I know."

Indignant, Bell opened her mouth to protest, but the words shriveled up. Mama wasn't wrong. Bell felt so empty, even though she was the most successful student in the school, the student with a full ride scholarship to Pomona College, the student graduating with every academic honor imaginable. She was lonely. She would walk out of her teenage years with no fond memories. And she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

"Well," she finally mustered up the resolve to say, "nobody's ever really happy. But I'd rather be unhappy while not being in trouble than be unhappy while in trouble."

Her mother just looked at her. Bell wasn't sure what she read on Mama's face; it was cryptic, very neutral, but with an unnamable tint to it. So Bell stared right back at her, unblinking.

Then Mama shrugged, held out her hand, and said, "Give me your library card."

Bell's eyes widened. " _What?!"_

"You are not allowed to go to the library until you make a mistake for me," said Mama sternly. "I don't care what mistake it is. Could be doing something stupid at the party. Or going out after curfew. Or breaking into my room and stealing the library card. But I want you to do something bad, so that you know that it's okay to make mistakes."

"Y — you mean that it's okay to break rules? Mom, what kind of lesson is that, you're supposed to be teaching me how to be a better person — "

"Which you cannot be, if you are always depressed and guilty. Perfection is not happiness. Striving for perfection brings only guilt to someone's life, and guilt is not something you need in excess. Give me your library card, go to your room, and start thinking about which rule you want to break."

There were no words to describe the shock that Bell felt in that moment. She hadn't done anything wrong to deserve this — no, she'd done too much right. And she was getting punished for it. Numb, Bell reached for her wallet and pulled out her library card, which Mama accepted and pocketed with a face of devious glee.

"I was hoping you would refuse to give it to me and make that your mistake," she laughed, "but it's mine now. Have fun with no new books. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."

Bell stared at her, speechless, for another moment before turning on her heel and storming up the stairs. Right before she slammed her bedroom door, she heard her mother laughing in the kitchen — so she slammed the door harder. Then she flopped facefirst onto her bed.

Mama was not giving her any choice. Bell was going to that party, whether she liked it or not. And she had already made up her mind that she would not.


	2. The Beloved, Part II

**The Beloved, Part II**

* * *

The next night, Bell went downstairs, sullenly asked her mother, "Can you help me sneak out of the house to go to a party?" and sat through a ten-minute car ride of being laughed at.

"I can't believe my own daughter," Mama gasped as they drove across town, the radio blaring an Iron Maiden album. "Going to a bad kid party instead of studying on a Friday night! Probably going to drink and lose her virginity and vandalize property! How awful of me to watch her go!"

"If any of that happens then I hold you liable," Bell grumbled.

Her mother just rolled her eyes. "This address is in Bel Air. The party can only be to a certain level of bad or else the neighbors would make a stink."

"Greeeaaaat. Real reassuring."

For the thousandth time, Bell fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt. She had been told by Natalie, after helping her with the essay, that the dress code was just casual whatever, but she still had spent too much time picking out her clothes. Her comfiest denim shirt, her lucky birthstone pendant, and her only pair of jeans that hadn't been frayed at the hems from overuse. Still, she already knew she'd stick out like a sore thumb. She didn't wear cakes of glitter eyeshadow or handfuls of rhinestone butterfly clips; she didn't have money for designer clothes or a starlet haircut straight out of Cosmo. She'd be just Bell, the poor mixed-race kid with a nerdy ponytail, coke-bottle glasses, and clothes from garage sales, just like she was at school. Except now she wouldn't have a book to disappear behind.

Mama turned a corner and Yana's neighborhood appeared, like a glimmering jewel of the suburbs. Even from the street, Bell could see evidence of the party straight ahead. A few dozen cars clustered around a brightly-lit house two blocks down. "Do you want me to drive you all the way?" asked Mama, which might have seemed like an odd question except that they both knew Mama's station wagon was as old as Bell herself. Not exactly a fashionable ride.

"No thanks, Mom. I can walk from here."

She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but then a hand rested on her shoulder. " _Mija_ ," said Mama softly. "You understand why you are doing this."

Bell's brow furrowed. "'Cause you're making me," she replied, but could only manage half the sarcasm that she wanted. Mama's gaze was soft but steady, and Bell couldn't tear her own eyes away.

"Because I want you to learn something," her mother said. "I want you to learn that no matter what happens tonight, you can call me. I'll be at home by the phone. And as soon as you call, I will get in the car to take you home. I don't care if you're knocked up, if you're drunk, or if you've set the neighborhood on fire — I would prefer that you don't do those, but if you make a mistake, I will love you no less. I am here."

Mama's voice was softer than Bell could ever remember it being; it cracked from years of cigarettes and the suspension just above a whisper. She squeezed Bell's hand.

"Can I call if I just don't want to be there anymore?" asked Bell.

"Of course. But wait at least ten minutes; I need time to get home before I can get your call."

"Okay," Bell muttered.

"Okay." Another squeeze of her hand, then Mama let go and patted her on the shoulder. "Now go have fun!"

"I really won't," replied Bell as she got out of the car.

"At least try! Just have fun and remember what I taught you! Watch your open drinks, find a girl you can trust, condoms are cheap but babies aren't — "

"Maaaaaa!"

Her mother cackled. "Alright, alright! Start walking and you will have your library card in no time. I love you."

"I love you too," said Bell automatically. But she didn't move from her spot on the side of the road until Mama started the car, made a U-turn, and disappeared down the road. Then Bell sighed and turned towards the party.

She took her time walking, comforted by the fact that she didn't constantly have to glance over her shoulder to make sure no shady city figure was following her. At the end of the block — Bell could see it clearer now, and it was one of the larger and more glamorous homes — was Yana's house, home to Yana and two of the best lawyers in all of Los Angeles.

Unwittingly, another sigh escaped Bell's mouth as she drew closer. She knew jealousy was corrosive, but she couldn't help but think of the future and grind her teeth. In government last year, where she and Bell had established their rivalry, Yana had used every opportunity to remind the class that she would become an even better lawyer than her parents. And granted, in mock trial, she was very good.

But Bell knew one thing better than Yana did, and it was that ambition and skill weren't everything. Yana's parents would likely fund her entire postsecondary education, allowing her to attend the best law school she could get accepted to. After she graduated, she would have an immediate job at the family firm. But Bell wouldn't have that. As hard as she worked, as driven as she may be, more things held her back where Yana was free to fly — Bell would graduate with tons of debt, and she would not be guaranteed a job anywhere. If she fell on hard times, she could not return to a house in a safe, rich neighborhood.

 _Which is why it's so important that I don't make mistakes, so I can better succeed!_ her brain told her for the thousandth time. _And why I shouldn't be going to this party, why I shouldn't even bother making friends because friends just mean trouble, and why I should just ignore the fact that almost four years of high school have gone by and I've never…had any fun. During any of it._

She stopped. Yana's white house was right in front of her, with music blaring from inside and the silhouettes of party guests in the yellow windows.

Meanwhile it was cold out here, and when Bell looked over the tops of the multimillion-dollar houses she saw that the last violet wisps of twilight had escaped behind the horizon, coloring the air with velvet blue. A chilly breeze swept through and Bell wrapped her arms around herself.

Yet another sigh escaped her lips. Guess she really had no choice.

The steps to the front door seemed mountainous, like stairs for giants, even though they were really quite shallow and wide. But Bell had never stood on marble except when she shadowed in the L.A. courthouse or went to the bank, and on those occasions she normally wore the carefully-polished dress shoes that made her feel a little more confident. Just being out here alone, walking to the door in dirty sneakers, felt more like she on her way to beg for alms than to join the party as a guest.

Finally she summoned up the courage to knock.

At first, it seemed like nobody had heard. So Bell knocked a little harder. The door cracked open, held by a bored-looking Asian girl with an impossibly big perm. Behind her, a few dozen teenagers milled around with drinks and dates.

"What?" asked the doorkeeper.

Bell swallowed. "Is this...Yana Zaranti's house?"

The doorkeeper smacked her gum and blew a pink bubble. "Yeah."

"Can I come in?"

"I don't care."

She cracked the door a little wider. _Warm welcome,_ Bell thought to herself as she slipped through the narrow space, then jumped when the heavy door slammed behind her. She tried to turn around to talk to the girl with the perm, but only glimpsed of her disappearing into a swarm of other girls with perms. Great.

Bell swallowed again, pretending not to notice the drop of sweat rolling down her forehead.

The house — if it could be called that; it really was more like a mansion — was full of kids. This wasn't just a "few friends", like Yana had promised. The marble staircases were littered with teens, some standing and chatting, others racing up and down the stairs. All of them were dressed to the tips of fashion, many of them were people she didn't recognize, and none of them paid any attention to her.

For stars knew how long, Bell ghosted through the halls of Yana's palace, staring at everything. It was really a gorgeous house. The living room had the biggest TV that Bell had ever seen; the spacious kitchen would have made her mother weep in jealousy. She found a bathroom that was bigger than her own bedroom and just hid in it for a while, sitting cross-legged on a white plush bathroom mat and wondering if anyone had ever touched it before.

Eventually, she wandered out into the backyard, where the music was strongest and, despite the mild January chill, kids were splashing around in a huge swimming pool. And then, there she was. Yana Zaranti stood beside the pool, dressed in a designer yellow blouse and spotless white capris, her blond pixie-cut hair glowing gold in the poolside lights. She was truly, strikingly pretty. High cheekbones, long lashes, a prominent nose much like Bell's own except that somehow Yana made it work (it was probably her cherry-red lips). Unfortunately, though she was chatting with friends, she seemed to catch Bell out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh, Izzy!" Yana yelled, waving her hand.

A good half of the people around the pool turned to look at Bell and she instantly shrank smaller. But Yana was quick to bustle over to her before she could escape.

"Didn't think you'd actually come," she smirked. "Welcome to my corner of the world."

"What a dump," said Bell flatly.

Yana let out a decidedly pretentious laugh. "Oh, you're so funny, Izz. I presume you're only here to collect your payment?"

Several of Yana's friends, male and female alike, but all clearly preps, drifted over and now eyed Bell suspiciously. Bell tried to ignore them.

"Yes," said Bell, "and then I plan to leave."

"That's lame," one of the preps scoffed.

"Yana, is this the bitch you were gonna give to Matt?" asked another.

"Yeah, yeah," said Yana, holding her hands out as if appeasing a mob of wild animals. They were still looking at Bell as if she was dinner. "I'll do that now. Go bother Alyssa or something."

The command was obvious in Yana's tone — she was the alpha of these particular preps, and they slunk away murmuring to each other. Meanwhile, Yana came much too close to Bell and slung her arm over her shoulder.

"So here's the thing," Yana drawled. Bell glanced down — Yana was wearing worryingly tall platform shoes, which explained how she could match Bell's height. Her breath smelled like alcohol, but when Bell met Yana's eyes, they glinted with a pure, sober genius. Of course. Yana was too smart to let herself get drunk.

"You know how I offered hooking you up with a guy who likes nerdy girls? Yeah, well, I made the offer to him as well, and he's fine with it. His girlfriend hasn't been sleeping with him lately, so if you'd _like_ to screw him tonight I'm sure he would be all the happier for that. I let him know that you might, just in case."

"Yana, I'd really rather not," Bell cut in. Yana had started walking inside and pulling Bell with her, so Bell slowed her pace and dragged Yana's long strides back. Yana just looked at her, bewildered.

"Rather not what? Rather not sleep with him?"

"I'd rather not meet him," said Bell more forcefully. "I don't want to meet anyone. I came here to get paid and that's what I plan to do. You _do_ have money for me, right?"

Yana's gaze darted. Sheesh. For an aspiring prosecutor, she was shit at bluffing. "Well...not really," she finally admitted. "Look, I'm sorry. I kind of lied. I had half of the money, and I planned to give it to you, but I miscalculated how many people planned to bring food, so I had Joey go out and buy more with your money. I really am sorry."

"I somehow find it hard to believe that."

"Well, believe what you want." Yana led Bell inside the house and through the kitchen, where she stopped at the minibar to grab a can of Pepsi from the little fridge. "You want something?"

 _Watch your open drinks_ , Mama's voice came back to Bell. Cans were fine. "Sprite, if you have it," said Bell, to which Yana smirked.

"You know what goes good with that? Just a little vodka. We got plenty."

Bell's jaw tightened. "No, thank you."

Yana shrugged and tossed her a can of Sprite, which she barely caught. "I'm still taking you to introduce him," she said, then gestured for Bell to follow her. Reluctantly, Bell did. "He's a nice guy, I swear. You know...you need to loosen up sometimes. And he's a _big_ guy, too."

"Excuse me!" said Bell indignantly, but Yana promptly ignored her.

She led Bell through the kitchen to the living room, where a small crowd of teenage boys had flocked around the TV and turned on a football game. "Hey! I'm looking for Matt!" Yana yelled at the group. Some of them glared at her, but one beach blond popped up from crowd and waded over to them. Bell guessed that he was a little cute, if not a little familiar, but nothing remarkable. Yana pulled them aside and gave winning smiles to both of them.

"Heeeey...so, Izzy, this is Matt; Matt, this is Izzy…"

"Bell," Bell corrected her. She huffed.

"Alright, fine. Matt, this is Bell. She's the cute nerd I was talking about. She doesn't have any friends here, so I expect you to treat her well, alright?"

Bell looked at Matt. Matt looked at Bell. "Oh, hey," he said. "You look familiar, did I have a class with you, or…"

"Geometry," Bell said, just then placing his face. "Freshman year, you sat in front of me."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Yeah."

The awkwardness was tangible enough that Yana probably could have cut it with one of her perfectly-manicured nails. She was tapping these same nails against the side of her cup, clearly impatient. "Soooo...I'll just leave you two to figure each other out," she said airily, then patted both of their shoulders. "Good luck!"

And then she disappeared into the crowd. Much more awkward now, Bell looked at Matt. And Matt looked at Bell. Again.

"So, uh…" Matt coughed. "How are classes going for you?"

"Good," replied Bell, shifting her weight. "What about you?"

"Oh. Uh. Good."

He nodded. She nodded too. "Good."

"Cool."

They both looked elsewhere. If Yana wanted to make things awkward, Bell mused to herself, then she'd done a damn good job.


	3. The Beloved, Part III

**A/N: i forgot that i was crossposting here omfg...sorry loves! if you want, the full 7 chapters are on ao3. sorry for forgetting!**

* * *

 **The Beloved, Part III**

* * *

The conversation didn't get much better from there. Matt was an okay guy, Bell learned; he was just…not interesting. He liked basketball and surfing and most other generic things that white boys in L.A. liked. They had one thing in common, and that was they were both anxiously awaiting Episode I of _Star Wars_ , but they really didn't have much to talk about there either because the last time Bell had seen the movies was when she was eight.

The most interesting thing that passed between them was the answer to why Yana had set them up in the first place — Bell asked about Matt's girlfriend, Carol, and Matt said that Carol was just not happy in their relationship. A little more probing later and Bell learned three things: that Yana and Carol were very close friends, that Carol had been dropping hints of breaking up with him for several months now, and that there were rumors that Carol was seen with a boy who Matt had recently fought with on the basketball court. Bell emerged with the singular theory that Carol was cheating on Matt with his rival, but since Yana was a meddler, Yana had brought Bell here specifically to hook up with Matt and make Matt no longer interested in Carol, leaving Carol free to sleep with Matt's rival. Certainly confusing, but it definitely seemed like something Yana would do, and though Matt was sad that his girlfriend was cheating on him, he was relieved to know one potential answer.

Even still. It wasn't a noteworthy conversation and Bell found herself in no ways sexually attracted to Matt, a lack of feeling that Matt reciprocated. So they just hung around the TV with the other boys, watching the football with a veil of awkwardness between them.

Eventually Bell excused herself. During her time wandering the house, she took note of every phone she saw (there were quite a few). Her favorite was the one in the library, a dark, quiet place with lots of books. The first time she had been here, she was about 80% sure that a couple was trying to covertly screw behind a shelf, so she hadn't stayed for long, but this time the place was empty.

Of course a family of two lawyers and a gung-ho lawyer-to-be would have a personal law library, Bell thought to herself, reverently making her way to the desk. And of course very few partygoers had trespassed here; it practically reeked of judgment — there was a framed replica of the Constitution on the wall, photographs of Yana's parents with several U.S. presidents and Supreme Court justices, newspaper clippings of all kinds. One bore the title _California Attorney Vittorino Zaranti Speaks Out Against Homosexual Marriage._ For some reason, that one made Bell uncomfortable.

She shook her head and made her way to the desk, where a black phone sat between a large pile of mail, a very expensive-looking pen, and a crystal lamp. Then she hesitated. A book lay just beyond the phone, upside down from Bell's perspective, but she could still read the title. _The Anti-Federalist Papers._ She raised an eyebrow. Of course she had read the Federalist Papers, but in the back of her mind she had assumed that the Anti-federalists had nothing good to say. She had never bothered to look for their papers to see their side on the issue.

Well, she supposed, she didn't _have_ to call Mama; she could always just sit here and read political books like she would do at the library, and that could count as her rebellious act…

But before she could touch the leather-bound cover, a roar rose up in the house beyond, startling her.

Of course, this was a party, so there was always a general hubbub in the background. But this was rather nearby and quite sudden and much louder than the normal party-noise, so Bell grew curious.

Tentatively, she crept to the library door and peered out. Most of the noise, now that her head was in the hallway, seemed to be coming from the living room, and at first she dismissed it as the football game. But then she noticed the other party guests drifting down the hall towards the source of the noise.

"What's going on?" she asked a passing group of girls.

Most of them barely gave her a glance, but one of them shrugged at her. "Who knows?" she said. "That's what I'm gonna go find out."

Well. That was an answer, Bell supposed. As the girls continued on, Bell surreptitiously followed behind them to the final destination, the living room, where easily over fifty kids crowded in a mass. The kids seemed to be crowding around something in the center. Most of the unusual ruckus had died down into a noisy, general murmur, but there was a tension in the room, like a rubber band pulled to its limits.

Then a girl's voice hollered, "SABRINA! IT'S SABRINA!"

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of shrieks and wolf whistles, and everyone nearby who wasn't part of the mob rushed quickly to join it. Everyone including Bell. She was tall, but there were some really high shoes and really big perms in this group, so craning her neck over the heads did virtually nothing. Fortunately, Bell was thin, so with some elbowing she managed to squeeze past the outer layers of the mob towards its heated inner sanctums.

The crowd was growing wilder now, everyone was talking at once, but Bell couldn't string together a coherent sentence of what anyone was saying. "Excuse me, excuse me," she just repeated, trying and failing to subtly slip through the cracks of the crowd. She was almost there and could see some things — the crowd was surrounding a low round coffee table, but it wasn't being used as much of a table because there was a boy standing on it. A girl was climbing up too; Bell knew her from physics and that was obviously Sabrina. The crowd grew a little louder, but just as it felt like something was about to happen, a larger boy moved in front of Bell and blocked her view.

"Excuse me?" Bell squeaked, tapping his shoulder.

But it was the wrong move. He turned with a glare. "Don't touch me, bitch."

Indignant, Bell glared right back. "I beg your pardon?! I was just trying to see — "

"If you wanna see so bad, get in there and join the game yourself," the guy snapped, grabbing her shoulder roughly. Before she could fight back, he shoved her in front of him. With an undignified "oof!" Bell stumbled against the coffee table between two girls.

"Rude," she almost said, but then there came a collective scream so loud that even her thought was cut off. Then her mouth went dry.

The two kids standing on the table were making out, a plastic soda bottle at their feet.

Oh.

It clearly wasn't just a middle school game of spin-the-bottle, either. Sabrina and the boy were practically eating each other's faces; his hands were sliding dangerously low down her back and her hips ground against his as they embraced. Then there was something else — in Sabrina's hand was a wad of cash, and throughout the crowd several people were chanting a countdown. When they reached one, Sabrina and the boy broke away as fast as they seemingly could, then came together again with Sabrina holding out the money. Once they'd split it evenly, they both climbed off the table and rejoined their laughing and jeering friends.

"What the hell?" said Bell, disgusted. She didn't know that she had said it out loud, however, and the girl to the right of her turned.

"Spin the bottle for cash," she said. "Bottle's spun, then everyone bids on how long they should kiss, a dollar a second."

"That's — " Bell was about to say "disgusting", but then realized that this girl was probably also offering up her body for money in this sick game, so she held her tongue lest she offend and start a fight. "That's…interesting."

"I know, right? Easy money," the girl grinned. "Hey, Yana's next!"

Bell looked, as did everyone else — Yana herself was at the table, taking a calm sip of her drink as the friends around her cheered her on. Like always, she seemed utterly unfazed with a situation where Bell would personally panic, instead just giving a cool smile to her friends and cracking a few unheard jokes before leaning forward to pick up the bottle in the center of the table. Confident. Fearless. Having...fun, just like every other cool kid around her. The problem wasn't that this game didn't belong at the party; it was Bell who didn't. She knew for sure now.

"I gotta go," Bell said quietly, but as Yana sent the bottle spinning nobody seemed to hear her.

She turned around only to find a wall of crabby frat boy looming behind her, who glared at her once and sent a very clear message. He wasn't going to move. Bell gulped and looked to the girl on her right.

"Excuse me, but could you move so I can lea — "

The girl whirled around to look at Bell and suddenly the crowd lost its mind. But Bell had kind of gotten used to it at that point, so she didn't question the yelling and suggestive "oooooOOOOH"s, just the look that her neighbor was giving her. Hard to tell what, exactly, the emotion of the look was.

"What?" Bell asked. "Did I say something?"

But the girl just laughed. "Holy shit, it's you!" she yelled over the ruckus. "Tough luck!"

 _It's you._

"What's me?" asked Bell's mouth, but deep down, like nausea, she knew. Her eyes blurry with incomprehension, she looked at the bottle on the table.

Pointing towards her, and above it, Yana's intent, solemn gaze.

Bell's stomach clenched up. Her neighbor slapped her playfully on the shoulder, telling her to get up there. The angry guy still loomed behind her, an impassable wall. And all around were kids hooting and wolf-whistling, yelling all versions of dyke and lesbian and whore and other words that made Bell want to break down into tears. But as Yana continued to stare at her, she found that she couldn't. Deep down she was too proud to cry.

Wordlessly, Yana stepped onto the table, crossed to Bell, and held out her hand. Every muscle in Bell's body screamed for her to run, but the crowds drowned them out; her shaky hand found its rest in Yana's palm as Yana helped her onto the table as well. Then the whole room was looking at them.

 _"This should be hot."_

 _"I'm paying five for this!"_

 _"Oh my god, I can't believe Yana's gonna do this…"_

 _"I wouldn't kiss that dyke if you paid me a million bucks."_

"TWO DOLLARS A SECOND!" Yana shouted, somehow overpowering the crowd. "You wanna see this? Double pay or it doesn't happen!"

For a moment, there was a lull in the wave of noise, and Bell got a flickering hope — if nobody paid, did they still have to do it? — but then it was over. The yelling was back. Someone tossed in a wadded-up five-dollar bill; another person tossed in a ten. The people in front started passing up cash from the people behind them, and suddenly Bell found herself pulling sweaty wrinkled bills from the drunken hands of hungry-eyed high school kids. When Yana turned to her again, she took the cash and added it up.

"Forty dollars," said Yana, stacking the miscellaneous bills neatly together. "That's the most a couple's made all night. So it's a twenty second kiss."

She said it so frankly, and her posture was so calm, and she was so composed that the nausea in Bell's stomach just grew worse. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Her first kiss was supposed to be romantic and sweet and soft and all within her own comfort range, it wasn't supposed to be _prostituting_ herself out with a girl she could stand never seeing again and at a party where nobody here knew her name but all of them wanted to see her get ravished in public just for the fun of it.

Yana must have recognized the disgust on Bell's face because she scowled. "Stop looking at me like that," Yana hissed. "It's not a big deal."

Bell glared right back. "Not a big deal?! Yana, I'm not doing this. Get me down from here."

She tried to turn away, but Yana's hand snapped around her wrist. "Please, Bell. They're all looking at me. If I don't do it, the — um — the whole party will be ruined."

"That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard."

The crowd was getting impatient. Some began to jeer. "Bet they're not even going to do it!" one girl yelled. "Gimme my money back!"

An odd look of distress flickered across Yana's face, and in her moment of weakness Bell tried to yank her hand away. But then Yana turned to her, meeting her eyes.

"I'll give you three-fourths of the share," she whispered. "That's thirty. Plus the fifty that I owe you. Eighty bucks for twenty seconds."

Bell was opening her mouth to object again, but then hesitated. Eighty dollars was more than Mama made in a whole day at the laundromat, certainly more than Bell could ever hope to contribute to the household with Mama's strict "study first, work later" policy. Eighty dollars could help fix the cracked windowpane in Bell's bedroom...or get stronger locks on their doors to protect against burglars. Or it could be a small fraction of the knee replacement that Mama needed but couldn't afford yet. Yes, okay, it was essentially selling her body, but Bell knew as soon as she heard the number that she needed it.

Before Yana could say another word, Bell braced herself and kissed her hard.

The first thing to come to Bell's mind was the crowd, a roar so deafening and greedy and paralyzing that it almost didn't register as something real. It just drowned. Just suffocated. And then, slowly, she began to recount the other reasons why she couldn't breathe anymore — the sugar-sweet lip gloss that seeped into the cracks of Bell's dry lips; the raw pressure of Yana's face practically mashed against hers; the taste of vodka on Yana's tongue that probed Bell's mouth; the blindness as she unconsciously squeezed her eyes shut; the unexpected, uncomfortable feeling of a pair of hands sliding down to cup her ass. Bell gasped for air and jerked her head back, but Yana's hands floated up to hold her in the kiss.

She had read about something like this. Sensory deprivation tanks, where you couldn't see or hear, so even the smallest movement against your body felt as if it bruised you to your very core. Here it was blindness from bracing for impact and deafness from the voyeurs and bruises all over, wherever Yana's hands pleased, but always on the lips. She could not recall ever feeling so vulnerable and she _hated_ the fact that her gut tightened up when Yana's hands slipped almost lovingly into the small of her back.

So she gave up. She let herself go limp as Yana kissed her, felt her, used her.

The twenty seconds couldn't be over fast enough.

As soon as the crowd shouted "One", Bell broke away, her hands both clamping over her mouth. She wasn't sure why that was her body's first response. Yana hadn't hurt her besides when their teeth bumped, which felt weird, but just the fact that it had happened made her mouth feel awful. Yana's taste lingered on her tongue.

"Bell?" said Yana, but the whisper was lost in the howls all around her. The jeering and the laughing. The mocking, directed right at Bell.

 _"Did you see how freaked out that virgin dyke was?"_

 _"Yeah, no wonder Yana hates her, she's a stuck-up bitch…"_

 _"Serves her right, she was probably putting herself in that circle so some hot guy would have to kiss her…"_

 _"With that nose? Well, good for her for trying."_

 _"Wonder how Yana didn't get poked by it…"_

Bell tore out of the room.

She didn't hesitate, didn't look back, didn't care that she was sobbing and pushing past people as she stumbled away. Yana called her name but she didn't listen. She just ran, her vision blurred by tears, out of the living room, through the halls, out the front door and down the steps. The night air hit her face like a slap.

But she didn't stop, and she wouldn't stop, until she was as far away from Yana Zaranti's party as she could get.


	4. The Lover, Part I

**A/N: Biggest apologies for not updating this, apparently I'm very good at forgetting about FFN. Here we go!**

* * *

 **The Lover, Part I**

It was just like that. Her love was gone.

One moment, Yana had been holding her in ways that she had only dreamt of before — caressing her cheeks, adoring her lips, worshiping her body. It was escapism. For twenty seconds, there was nothing wrong with the world; Yana could close her eyes and hold Bell's hand and pretend that the people around her were celebrating their love. She could pretend that Bell loved her as much as she loved Bell, and that they could be happy in a world that accepted them together.

But then, the next moment, Bell pulled away from Yana and ran away in tears.

The temperature of the room dropped thirty degrees. The crowd's jeering died down into an uncomfortable murmuring as some of them watched Bell run away; some turned to Yana with confused looks, and the rest whispered among themselves. Natalie, the resident dumbass, made the mistake of being the first to speak up.

"Wow, haha, didn't think Yana was that bad at kissing!"

"Nat, shut up," Yana snapped. Suddenly, her stomach didn't feel so good, and she regretted having drunk so many mini cocktails. She realized that she was still clenching the forty dollars in her hand. She lifted her chin and faced the crowd, all of them waiting for her command.

"Keep playing if you want," she said, "but I hope you know that you're all assholes."

Yana stepped down off the table and strode through the mob, which parted uneasily before of her. Some people threw snide remarks at her back as she left, most accusing her of being no better, but she didn't bother to remember them. She just chased after Bell, praying that Bell wasn't the faster runner.

Fortunately, as Yana skidded into the foyer, she just barely caught the front doors closing, which narrowed down Yana's field of searching from "the house" to "not the house." Great. Ignoring the fact that she was in very tall shoes, Yana burst through the front doors and ran down the steps to the sidewalk.

The neighborhood was well-lit even at this time of the night, and it didn't take Yana long to catch a glimpse of Bell. She was already three houses away and still running. So Yana steeled herself, kicked off her shoes onto the lawn, and took off as fast as she could.

"Bell! Wait!"

In hindsight, Yana would regret yelling that, as it only caused Bell to glance over her shoulder and then run faster. But if Bell had never looked over her shoulder, she would never have missed the child's bike that had been left tipped-over on a driveway, its handlebars jutting over the sidewalk at the same height as Bell's shins.

 _WHAM!_

Bell slammed face-first onto the sidewalk, so hard that Yana flinched. Then she ran faster. "Bell!" she gasped, reaching out to her. "Are you okay — "

"I don't want — your _fake-ass_ _pity_ ," Bell spat, her head jerking to glare at Yana. Her voice and gaze trembled with sobs. "Get the fuck away from me."

She tried to push herself up, but faltered, looking at her legs and hands. Her knees were scraped and bloody, her pants in tatters. Her hands had escaped most topical damage except a few small cuts. Yana could already see the beginnings of bruises forming on her palms.

"I'm taking you back to my house," said Yana.

"Like _hell_ you are," Bell murmured, standing quickly. "I'm going home."

"Well — okay — do you have a car — "

"You really fucking think I have a car of my own?" She laughed bitterly as she turned to Yana, her face livid and streaked with tears. Her fists were clenched at her sides. "No, I'm going to find a payphone and I'm going to get a ride from my mom and go home and try to forget that tonight ever fucking happened!"

Bell was so mad that a couple droplets of spit flew from her mouth, and it was clear that she saw it because she grimaced in shame. Hiding her face in her hands, she turned and began limping away. But seeing Bell hurt was like a dagger twisted into Yana's gut.

"Bell, please — "

Yana only made it a few steps before Bell whirled around on her. "Do I _need_ to remind you why I don't ever want to see you again?" Bell hissed. She took a threatening step towards Yana, and Yana involuntarily took one back. "You dragged me into that _sick_ game. You bribed me to _kiss_ you. You expect me to just _stand_ there after my first and only kiss ever as people laughed about how terrible it was!"

Yana's breath caught in her throat. "Your…first…"

Bell wouldn't stop advancing, slowly and deliberately like a wolf. "And then you chase me so that you can mock me about wanting to go home! At first I thought it was just you trying to sucker up to your friends and seem cool around them — but — but — but even when they're not around you're still just so goddamn pretentious! It's not even them! You're just a huge, spoiled, stuck up bi — "

Bell's ankle caught on something, and in a split second Yana knew what it was. As Yana backed up, she had seen the bike that had tripped Bell earlier and stepped over it. But Bell was so angry, preoccupied with yelling, that she didn't see it.

For the second time, Bell tripped and fell forward, gasping.

It was a split second decision and really Yana hadn't thought about it at all, but in hindsight she would wonder how she reacted so fast. Instead of jumping back, Yana caught Bell around her waist, stumbling back a little but managing to stay upright. Bell's body pressed up against hers — oh.

Bell seemed to realize this as soon as Yana did because she quickly scrambled to her feet. But instead of running, she finally let herself break down. Her breath hitched and she began to sob into her hands.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" she wailed. "You're never going to leave me alone, are you? Just take me back to your stupid rich house, put me up on display for all your stupid friends and tell them to laugh at me, the big ugly dyke! I don't care anymore! I just — I just want to call my mom and go home!"

And Bell truly, deeply cried, right in the middle of the sidewalk, in front of her greatest rival. On the street, a car passed, driving away from Yana's house. Then another one. Yana looked and saw that this wasn't uncommon; several party guests were already walking out to their parked cars. Guess spin-the-bottle for cash wasn't much fun anymore. But…as much as everyone leaving hurt to see, Bell crying hurt more. Like the difference between a slap in the face and a hot iron against her skin.

Carefully, she put her hand on Bell's shoulder. "Hey…half of the party's leaving," she said. "I can probably sneak you inside without anyone seeing."

Bell wiped her nose with the back of her hand and let out a single, choked sob. "Can't think of a goddamn reason why you wouldn't want me to be humiliated," she mumbled, the sarcasm weak but full of pain. Yana didn't bother justifying herself in her own mind — Bell had a point.

"I'll help you walk back," she said quietly.

Bell had a pronounced limp now and her right ankle seemed remarkably weak, so Yana let Bell hang onto her as she helped her walk. The sidewalk had not been kind to her. Yana, not one for blood, grimaced and tried not to think about that too much. For a moment she tried to focus on Bell's arm around her shoulder, her side pressing up against Yana's, and the shiny blue bauble holding Bell's ponytail — things about Bell that she couldn't help but adore — but that, too, caused her stomach to clench.

 _What have I done?_ she thought.

When she led Bell back inside the house, the noise of the party had dropped dramatically. In the foyer there was no one except a visibly drunk couple, sitting on the stairs and whispering to each other. They barely glanced up as Yana helped Bell limp upstairs.

She took Bell to her parents' bathroom, long since vacant. It was a beautiful room, all white marble and silver fixtures, with a bathtub big enough for five people and a huge shower that doubled as a sauna. In one of the many cabinets was a variety of medicine and first-aid supplies. Yana grabbed a box of the biggest band-aids she could find, as well as an ace wrap, a towel, and antiseptic spray. She might have been shitty at talking to girls, but at least she knew first-aid. Eight years of softball made sure of that.

"Sit," said Yana tersely, gesturing to the floor. Still sullen and hanging her head, Bell did, taking care not to bend her knees too much.

"Great. Just great," Bell muttered. "These were my nicest pants. Whatever am I going to wear to the dozens of other upscale parties that I'm invited to?"

Yana, meanwhile, was preoccupied, sitting down in front of her and opening the packages. "Just...buy new ones."

There was a silence and Yana suddenly realized that maybe she could have better thought through that response.

"With _what_ money," Bell grumbled.

Yana cringed. Hastily, she reached into her back pocket and dug out forty dollars in cash — the money from the kiss.

"Well...this, for a start," said Yana, then decided against her stingy heart and held the whole bundle out. "You can have it all. I don't need it."

Bell averted her gaze. "I told you I don't want your pity."

"Too fucking bad."

Yana set the cash down on the floor next to Bell and then turned her attention to the scrapes on her knees. They looked worse in the light, that was for sure. And Bell's jeans would definitely need some intense spot cleaning if they were to ever be a shade of blue again. The obvious solution came to mind so fast that Yana almost said it without thinking — which would have been disastrous and probably quite alarming to Bell. After a few moments, Yana braced herself and decided to push forward anyway.

"This is going to sound weird," she began slowly, "but I need you to take your pants off."

Bell's eyes widened. "Excuse me?!"

Yana gritted her teeth. It was getting hard to look Bell in the eye. "If we want to save what's left of your pants, I need to wash them before the blood soaks in. Not to mention that I need to clean off your scrapes. Once I'm done cleaning the wounds, I can lend you a pair of shorts or something."

Bell opened her mouth to protest, but seemed to realize Yana had a point. Huffing indignantly, Bell stood up, kicked off her sneakers, wriggled out of her jeans and then sat down again. (Her panties were baby blue with white polka dots.)

Trying not to stare at Blue's legs too much, and also trying to hide the fact that she was distracted by them, Yana pushed Bell's jeans aside and turned her attention to the scrapes. First she wet the towel with warm water and dabbed it gently against the wounds, soaking up the excess blood and cleaning out the fragments of sidewalk. Once the wounds were as clean as she could get them, she applied the antiseptic spray and carefully lay the band-aids over each wound, two per scrape.

She couldn't help but, as she pulled her hands away, let her fingertips brush against Bell's calf. Bell moved back an inch.

Yana moved to Bell's ankle. Obviously, there wasn't as much discoloration or redness because Bell had such dark skin, but it was clearly swollen and Bell held it at an odd angle. Probably just a minor sprain if Bell could still kind of walk on it. Carefully she began to wrap Bell's bare foot and ankle as best as she could, though she couldn't find the clip to secure it, so she had to make do by sticking a hairpin in the bandage instead. Crude, but functional.

"I'm going to get a new pair of jeans for you," said Yana, her own voice sounding empty and distant in her ears. Bell didn't even respond.

Yana went to her room, grabbed the first shorts she saw, and for good measure dug in her closet for the pair of crutches she used in sophomore year for a fractured kneecap. Unfortunately she only found one, but that would do. When she returned to Bell in the bathroom, Bell was still sitting on the plush floor rug but had covered her legs with a towel. Yana tossed her the shorts.

"Dress," she said shortly before turning around. Might as well respect Bell's privacy.

After a few seconds, Bell muttered, "These are the sluttiest shorts I've ever seen."

Yana glanced back. Bell stood wearing the aforementioned slutty shorts, balancing herself against the bathroom sink. They really weren't THAT slutty. But in hindsight, Yana could have looked for a less revealing pair. The cuffed hems soared way above Bell's knees, showing off nearly the full lengths of her bruised and bandaged legs.

"That's because they belong to a slut," said Yana calmly. Then she handed Bell the crutch and picked up her bloodied jeans. "I'm gonna wash these. Follow me if you don't want to just sit here."

Before she could close the door behind her, she heard Bell grumble something, then start limping after her with the telltale _step-CLANK, step-CLANK_ of the crutch.

With Bell following wordlessly (but still very loudly) behind, Yana led her down one flight of stairs, through a hall where three kids were arguing about something unimportant, and down another flight of stairs. The laundry room was tucked into a far, quiet corner of the basement, and Yana had half expected to find a tipsy couple making out in it, but there was nothing but the calming white noise of the clothes dryer.

While Yana lay the pants out and began dabbing at the stains with a wet washcloth from the laundry sink, Bell stood by the folding table. Yana didn't even have to turn around to know what she was looking at. The single, tiny pile of laundry in the hamper and the few blouses folded on the table.

"Your family doesn't wear a lot of clothes," Bell said suddenly.

Yana cast her a raised eyebrow. "Oddly specific and meaningless observation."

Bell's cheeks darkened and she turned away. "I was just thinking. Your parents aren't home; I've been wondering all night how they could let you throw a party like this."

"What a good question," said Yana, partially sarcastic. How obvious could it possibly be that her parents were gone.

But Bell surprised her — she continued. "There was dust accumulated on the countertops in your parents' bathroom," she said. "And the pile of letters on the library desk, that had to be several weeks of mail. And all of those clothes are yours, the rest could've been put away, but your parents don't generate laundry — the bath towel hooks had dust on them. You live here alone, don't you?"

No use denying it. Yana shrugged. "My parents like long-term trips."

It was a mistake. The sudden cold silence said that much.

"You told me they were gone for the weekend." Bell's tone was suddenly sharp, and Yana knew that if she looked up from her work then she would be met with a glare. "And you said you got a weekly allowance, which was why you couldn't pay me when I asked for it. How can you get a weekly allowance when your parents aren't even home?"

Shit. _I can't tell her. She'll think I'm the worst person in the world, if she doesn't already._ But then she had nothing else to say.

More silence gaped between them, Bell's growing anger the only thing pulsing through it. When she realized Yana wasn't going to talk, she pressed on. Her words practically dripped with sarcasm.

"What? No alibi, Miss 'I'm-Gonna-Be-The-Best-Lawyer-Ever'?"

Yana grit her teeth. "No."

"So if it wasn't for money, why'd you invite me to this party, huh? Was it just so I could be a pawn for your little game with Matt and his girlfriend, or did you plan that awful kiss, too? Why? Just to — _to humiliate me?_ To give your guests something to laugh at? So you could laugh at me as you got my hopes up with all this, this transparent pampering and being nice, like, ' _Oh, hahaha, Bell thinks that I'm actually a nice person because I helped her put some fucking band-aids on!'"_

Bell's voice shot up to a shriek and Yana squeezed her eyes shut, clenching the washcloth in her hands. _No. No no no, this isn't how it's supposed to be._

"I'm sorry," Yana whispered, but she already knew that it wouldn't stop Bell.

"HA! I bet you're sorry!" Bell laughed, her laugh high and bitter as vinegar. "Sorry that you couldn't keep me up on that table any longer so more people could _laugh at my ugly face!"_

Yana couldn't take it. Pain rotted away in her gut, but only now she knew she couldn't hide it anymore. She whirled around, gritting her teeth.

"Bell, stop it!"

"Why? Why should I stop?" She was crying again, worse than before. "You're manipulative and you're cruel and you're the worst liar I've ever seen — you're not trying to take care of me, you're just trying to cover your own ass, because you're a selfish BITCH! _Why else would you do it?"_

Yana went silent. She knew what she wanted to say. But she couldn't; it would just be guilt-tripping by this point, or at the very least it would _sound_ like a guilt-trip.

Except she really really wanted to say it. She'd wanted to say it for four years. If it had even the smallest chance of making Bell feel better, then she had to. If it would let Yana wipe the tears from Bell's cheeks, if it would let Bell know that she wasn't ugly or unwanted, if it would let loose the years and years of guilt and silence trapped within the walls of her parents' damned house, then she had to say it.

And yet she still stayed silent. Paralyzed, deaf, and dumb.

Bell sniffled. She let the crutch drop to the ground with a loud clatter so that she could wipe her eyes on her sleeves, then wrap her arms around herself in a hug. She wouldn't look at Yana.

"I'm going home," she murmured. "I can give your shorts back on Monday. But after that, I don't want to talk to you ever again."

She turned to leave.

Yana thought that she knew what heartbreak felt like. She'd had boyfriends before, three of them, and though she had never cherished them like she cherished Bell, she had cried when they left. It was a dull ache that made her crave chocolate ice cream and that was heartbreak, right?

Now, she knew she was wrong. That had been loneliness. This was the stab of a blade, right in her chest, and she was doing it to herself. Because of Bell.

"Wait," Yana blurted.

Bell stopped in the doorway. But she didn't turn around, and Yana hesitated.

 _I can't believe I'm doing this._

"If we're never going to speak again, I need to get something off my chest. I can't let this go unsaid."

"I don't want another fake apology, Yana — "

"It's not."

Yana looked at her feet, then her hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. And for the first time in her life, Yana knew what it was like to have stage fright.

She crossed the distance to Bell, dropped down to one knee, and lifted her head. When she finally looked, Bell was staring, her eyes wide. Her beautiful brown eyes.

And Yana knew that she had to pretend, or she would lose her nerve, so she took Bell's hand and closed her eyes again and tried to dive back into the fantasy. The fantasy that there was a diamond ring in her pocket, and that it would fit perfectly on Bell's soft hand. The fantasy of arriving to the wedding, where Bell was wearing a suit and her cute nervous smile, and where Yana wore all white and lace. The fantasy of Bell blushing and Yana pushing Bell's overgrown bangs out of her eyes before kissing her again, again, again, whenever Yana wished. The fantasy of Bell carrying her through the doors of their new home, where they would spend all night talking excitedly about the plans for their new firm (Zaranti, Zarcero & Associates, PC?). It was a fantasy that she had dedicated years to, ever since she met Bell at freshman orientation and fell in love with those dark brown eyes.

"I'm risking my life to tell you this," Yana whispered, "But I have wanted to say it ever since I met you. I don't expect you to believe it or for you to stay when you hear it. But I can't let you go without telling you."

She inhaled shakily.

"I'm in love with you, Bell."


	5. The Lover, Part II

**The Lover, Part II**

* * *

 _"I'm in love with you."_

The room fell quiet. The only sound between Yana's gaze and Bell's wide eyes was the gentle rumbling of the clothes dryer.

Then Bell laughed.

"HA! Oh my god, ahahahahah...like I haven't heard _that_ before! That's really fucking funny, Yana, you almost had me for a second. You know, normally when people fake-ask me out, all of their friends are there to laugh at me...too bad, because you really almost had me! Ha! Nice try, asshole…ahahaha…"

Yana blinked. To her surprise, there were tears. Hastily, she wiped her eyes, stood, and turned her back to Bell. Shit. Well...it could have gone worse…

"Wait — you _were_ joking, right?"

The question was sudden enough to freeze Yana right in her tracks. "I guess it doesn't matter, does it?" she said, but it came out harsher than she had meant it to.

Bell rolled her eyes. "Well, jeez, I can't tell, because if you weren't joking, then you were lying about hating me, and that's a stretch!"

"I never hated you — "

"What, am I supposed to believe our flaming rivalry was all an act?"

The image of Bell, squirming nervously during mock trial, came to Yana's mind and made her cheeks flush red. "We were still rivals. I just didn't hate you."

Bell scoffed. "Give me a fucking break. You can't even remember my name half the time."

"Isabel Izarra Zarcero," Yana said without hesitation. "During freshman orientation, four years ago, our group played a stupid game where we said our middle initial and people had to guess our full name. Nobody could get yours, and you didn't want to say it, because you knew people would be twice as likely to call you Izzy. You hate Izzy."

"Yes! Yes I do! And you still fucking called me that!"

"I…liked having your attention."

"Well, you got it! Now get it over and laugh about it!" Bell was yelling now, and fumbled with her glasses to clean the tears off them. She sniffled, scrunched up her face, and looked like she was seriously considering just spitting at Yana. "Go on. Laugh at your whole big joke, it's over. I'm not falling for another bit of it."

"Why would I joke about liking you?" Yana demanded. "I saw you sneak off into the library. You saw what my parents say about homosexuals. Why would I joke about it if it could get me killed?"

The room went quiet.

"It wouldn't get you...killed," said Bell weakly. But Yana turned away. It was getting difficult to look her in the eye again.

"Interview with the Washington Post, November 1995. On Solving the Homosexual AIDs Epidemic," she snapped. She had these declarations memorized. "When asked what he suggested be done with the homosexuals, Vittorino Zaranti responded, 'The best way to deal with them is through advanced psychological counseling in order to restore them back to society. The most effective breakthroughs as of late have been through what we call conversion therapy.' Conversion therapy, as Zaranti explained, is a complex set of physical and psychological treatments including hormone medications and negative-image association, whereby the patient is given a strong electric shock when shown homosexual imagery. Some methods of therapy, like those employed by Christian ministry Exodus International, focus more on prayer and spiritual connection. Eventually, with the patient's cooperation, he can be converted back to normal and enjoy a heterosexual life again. 'Repeatedly-offending homosexuals, especially those with sexually transmitted diseases,' Zaranti continued, 'may also choose to serve prison time.'"

Yana blinked hard, pushing back tears.

"Whenever they actually talk to me, they always say how proud they are of me," she forced through gritted teeth. "Proud that I could go to such a liberal school in the middle of L.A. and still be such a good, smart, straight girl. Yana's nothing like those awful homosexuals and their rape agendas! Wow, we're so proud that our daughter isn't a man-hater; if she was, we'd have to put her into a conversion therapy camp where she's taught how to hate herself, or lock her in prison until she's dead…"

Her voice caught in her throat. She wasn't typically a crier, but this was her world, this was her only demon in an otherwise perfect life, and she knew it was so entitled to pity herself, but it _hurt._

"That's why I did it," she finished weakly. "I kissed you because I like you."

Silence, as it did, returned. Finally Bell huffed.

"Well, just because you claim to like me doesn't mean you can humiliate me. You're still a bitch and I'm not sorry for you."

"I know." Yana sighed. "But I wanted to apologize."

" 'Wanted to apologize' barely cuts it — "

"I know! I know. I really do. I just — I just didn't want you to leave without knowing. That...you're...really cute."

Heat flooded her cheeks and Yana became grateful that she was already not facing Bell, as to hide it would have been too obvious. But did it really matter? Did anything? Because the only thing in her life that _did_ matter was standing at the door, her fists clenched as if to wring Yana's neck. And it broke Yana's heart that she had done this to herself. To Bell. She had ruined Bell's reputation, her dignity, even her first kiss, and all because Yana couldn't keep her hands to herself. Couldn't stop lying to everyone around her and making this whole facade of the rich and pretty bitch, just to get a bittersweet taste of what she truly wanted.

To love someone.

In the gaping silence that followed, there at last came the sounds of uneven footsteps, growing fainter. Without a single word to Yana, Bell limped away, leaving the laundry room door open behind her. Then, when she was gone, Yana crumpled to the ground against the wall and hid her face in her hands.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed there, bitterly trying not to cry, before the limping footsteps returned. When she lifted her head, Bell stood in the doorway again, a puzzled look on her face.

"Do you really think I'm…" Bell couldn't even finish the sentence.

Hastily, Yana wiped her eyes and looked away. "Cute."

Bell said nothing.

"I wish it was just that," Yana laughed bitterly. "If you were just cute then I might've been able to forget about you and move on. But no. You just had to cross over into the category of perhaps the most spirited, beautiful girl I've ever seen."

"You're lying."

Yana finally managed to meet her gaze. "I would swear it on a Bible if I had one."

Bell blinked. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but glimmered with curiosity. And suddenly it hit Yana that the tables had turned, even without her meaning to turn them. One of the things she loved about Bell was that she never caved to manipulation unless she wanted to; her emotions were her own, untainted by even Yana's most compelling, charismatic arguments. Either she still thought that Yana was lying and had decided to play along with the game she saw...or, for the first time, she glimpsed Yana as no one had ever seen her before. As a lost, broken, lonely asshole.

Finally Bell shifted her weight to her good leg and folded her arms. "Alright. Humor me," she said, seemingly aloof. "Why did you lie about paying me?"

"I didn't lie," Yana replied. "I genuinely don't have any more cash that I could give you."

"Right…"

"My parents gave me a credit card for groceries and personal spending and it's up to me to decide how that's divided up. All of my transactions are reviewed by my mom's secretary. So if I want to have a party like this, I have to withdraw small increments of cash for a few weeks to save up. Cash can't be tracked by strict parents."

"Strict parents, you say, and yet they've been gone for months."

"Tour of Europe, working with the UN, but mostly just touring. Yeah." Yana sighed. "They think of me as an investment. I'm not their kid, I'm an asset to their financial empire who will support their dreams of retiring as billionaires. They've even been putting money away for...something like a dowry, so I can marry a rich old man and accumulate more money. So they check up on me, but it's the same way that they check up on their business partners. They want me to be the perfect pawn, that's all."

Bell was quiet as she took that in. Then she said, "At least you'll have money."

"Money's got _bullshit_ on love," Yana shot back.

Bell's glare hardened. "You've never been too poor to eat, have you?"

Yana opened her mouth, realized that what she wanted to say was probably offensive, and closed it again. "I haven't," she said slowly. "I'm sorry. I just get wrapped up in myself, I know that I'm so pampered but I still pity myself! It's pathetic. It really is.

"But sometimes it just...hurts so much. Being so goddamn lonely. Having these parties is the only way I can keep the house from getting so silent that I want to hang myself from the chandelier. It's why — " she bit her lip " — it's why I got so awful and possessive of you. I've wanted you to come to a party for so long that when I got my chance, I couldn't pass it up."

Another pause. Yana was getting uncomfortable on the ground, but she didn't dare stand. For some reason, Bell's presence was fragile, as if one wrong move from Yana would send her storming off again. She didn't want her to leave.

"Why did you make me talk to Matt, then?" Bell asked. "If you loved me so much, wouldn't that hurt?"

"Because I knew he'd never hook up with you."

"Wow. Thanks."

"No, no — I mean, okay, you probably figured out the drama with his girlfriend. But Matt's too loyal; he'd never cheat on her. I made you talk to him because he typically doesn't leave my parties until I kick him out. If he could get you to stay longer, I'd have a better chance of talking to you. Maybe even...you know, being alone together, driving you home."

In spite of herself, she laughed breathily. "I even thought about it last night as I went to bed," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. "You know how you imagine whole scenes that you want to happen in the future? I dreamed that maybe you'd be tired at the end of the night and I could invite you to sleep over, and maybe you could share my bed and I'd confess my secret and you'd be okay with it and we'd have our first kiss...God. I'm just making this weird."

"You already did," said Bell flatly.

"I did! Yeah. I did." Another forced laugh. This one burned, like each of her ribs was piercing her lungs.

Because it was all wrong. Everything about it was wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't how finding love was supposed to be, and Yana was just pushing Bell further and further away. She wanted Bell to come to her of her own volition but she also wanted to play the cards to _make_ that happen, even though it wasn't the natural course of things. Oh, God forbid that Yana ever say it aloud, but she knew she wished to die; if she couldn't have love in the form of Bell Zarcero then there was nothing left to live for.

But she could never say it. If Yana died, it would be no one's fault but her own.

She clenched her fists, her teeth, her eyelids until she could hear the blood rushing through her head. She had fucked up so many things in her life that they could keep her awake for days if she tried to think of them all, but this was by far the worst because she had dragged someone down with her. Inhaling shakily, Yana pushed herself to her feet, supporting herself on the washing machine.

"I'm...sorry," she whispered.

Bell met her eyes. Her face was inscrutable, but cold, as if daring Yana to continue on.

"I know you might never forgive me. I understand," said Yana. "But if there's anything I can do for you, just — just tell me. And I'll do it."

The room fell into silence for what felt like thousands of years.. At some point, even the dryer had switched off, leaving the two of them alone; the only sound was the distant, muffled beat of music from upstairs. Then, even that too was turned down. Footsteps made their way across the ceiling towards the front door. The whole house slowly, but surely froze, as Bell's solemn gaze bored into Yana's.

And then Bell leaned over, picked up the crutch from the ground, and limped towards Yana. So close that Yana had to back up to give her space, but soon her back bumped against the wall, and Bell only stopped once her shoes were an inch away from stepping on Yana's toes. Not that she didn't like being close to Bell, but Bell was much taller when Yana wasn't wearing platform shoes, letting Bell look down on her, and this was unusually close for casual conversation.

"What are you doing?" Yana asked automatically.

"Checking you for sweat," said Bell, completely deadpan.

"Excuse me?"

"I noticed two signs of lying while you spoke to me, avoidance of eye contact and excessive fidgeting with the hands, so I'm looking for a third sign to make sure. But you smell just as disgusting as always, so maybe you are a little honest."

God, she was so hot. Even if she wasn't trying to be, the fact that she was able to surprise Yana was enough to bring the thought to mind. Yana's ego suffered to articulate it, but Bell was so much smarter than Yana that it made her weak in the knees. She couldn't help but stare. Bell's soft brown face, the cinnamon freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and nose. Her mad genius eyes, locked on Yana's, an unfathomable glimmer within their depths. And her lips. A prominent Cupid's bow; a natural plumpness to the lower lip, the one she sometimes chewed when nervous…

"I'm not lying," Yana said. "I can prove it."

Bell inclined her chin and looked down her nose. "Can you?"

Rage flared in Bell's eyes, but Yana didn't break her gaze. In that moment, she let herself go. She didn't think, didn't worry, didn't bother to look forward or back. This was just how it was going to be.

"Yeah," she answered softly. "I'm sorry for your first kiss. I'll...try not to ruin your second one."

"What — "

Yana lifted her hand to Bell's face. Maybe it was just the surprise, but it stopped Bell right in her tracks. Her eyes were wide and glittering and stunned, her lips slightly parted — Yana couldn't look away.

When she kissed Bell for the second time, she was gentle. The possessiveness was still there in Yana's hand cupped around the back of Bell's head. But now there was something much deeper, more reverent. Bell tasted sweet on her tongue and her hair was like strands of silk between the grasp of Yana's fingers. Yana's stomach didn't clench up in guilt when she reveled in it. It might have been foolish to call it love when Bell didn't want it, and yet this time something tempted the word again.

As Yana kissed Bell, slow and soft and sweet, with her eyes barely closed, she realized that Bell was kissing her back.

The dance lasted only a few moments before they broke apart, both breathing shakily. Then they stared at each other through wide, owlish eyes. They both knew — something was different.

"What did you just do?" Bell whispered.

"I...well...I kissed you," Yana replied, equally bewildered.

"I'm not stupid," said Bell. "Why was it like — like that?"

Yana looked down. "Nobody was watching," she said at last.

For a moment, Bell just stared blankly. Then she stepped back, leaning against the dryer to support herself. "Oh my god," she murmured and rubbed her forehead. "Ohhhh my god. I need a moment."

"Are you...okay?" Yana couldn't help but ask, folding her hands nervously.

"I don't think I'm prepared to answer that question," said Bell. She put her hands over her mouth, then behind her head, then wrapped them around her body. She stared, glassy-eyed, at the wall.

A thousand worries spun through Yana's head, but the only one that came out was, "Was it bad?"

"I — " Bell put her hand over her mouth again and found a fascination with her sneakers. "No."

For the first time it seemed as if Bell had been struck totally speechless. More than ever, Yana wished she could climb into her head, touch her hand and feel what she was feeling, or even just ask and have her tell her, but it wasn't that simple. So she just waited, staring. After a few moments of silence, she glanced down to the sink. Bell's torn pants were soaking in the cold basin of water, but had been there for the whole fight. So Yana matter-of-factly pulled them out, wrung them dry, and threw them in the washer with a small load of darks.

When she turned around, Bell was sitting on the floor, her face blank and distraught. After a second Yana sat next to her.

"Do you really think I'm pretty?" asked Bell, turning to Yana. Their eyes locked and Yana nodded.

"More than that. You're brilliant. But I'm never sure if you know that."

Bell's brow furrowed. "Brilliant."

"Yeah. It's so fucking dumb, but…" Yana chuckled in spite of herself. "Back when I had first met you, even before you really ever spoke to me, I used to dream of you a lot. I thought, 'This girl would complete me. Together, we would be unstoppable'. You know how it is — you see someone and somehow you can read them like an open book, like you've never been able to read anyone else before, and the sudden clarity just...lights a spark. So you think about them a lot."

"And you lied about…all of it? You pretended to hate me to cover that all up?"

"I had no choice. You're the only person I've told about — about myself, being gay or bisexual or whatever I am, I don't even know, but I couldn't risk letting anyone else know. If it got back to my parents, it'd be over for me."

"Oh."

They both went quiet. Then Bell sighed and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "About your parents."

Yana shrugged. "It's fine. I'm sorry for taking advantage of you…all those times that I did. Maybe pretending to hate you wasn't the best way out of it."

"Yeah…"

Another deep, deep silence. And then Bell, again, broke it.

"Yana…"

"Yeah?"

"About the kiss…the, the second one, I…" Bell bit her lip, fiddled with her sleeve, and exhaled shakily. "It was nice."

Inadvertently, Yana sat up straighter, her eyes wide. "What?"

"I mean — I still don't know how to feel about you. I don't think I'm gay and I, okay, I kind of still hate you. But — " Bell grimaced. "I, well, I liked the kiss. It felt really good. And — I — I want you to do it again."

When Bell said it, Yana didn't quite comprehend it. Her jaw went slack. It might have been a full minute before she was actually able to respond. Bell liked it. Bell liked the kiss. Bell wanted to kiss her again. It sounded more like a demand than a request, but what did it matter? Bell didn't hate her as much as she used to; even if Yana had fucked up the first kiss, she had more than just a second shot. She had a third. And perhaps more to come.

"Yes!" Yana blurted.

Before Bell could get in another word, Yana grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. It was, in hindsight, one of the stupidest and most teenager-ish things she'd ever done. She hadn't bothered to ask Bell why, for how long, or with what intensity she should kiss her. But in the moment none of that mattered because Bell's lips were against hers.

At first, Bell seemed as surprised and stiff as the horrible first kiss, and for a split second Yana worried that she'd done something wrong. But then Bell was reciprocating, caving to Yana's touch and wrapping her arms around Yana's back. Their noses bumped awkwardly as they shifted positions. Finally they settled to where Yana was in Bell's lap, straddling her legs and bending down to meet her lips, and it was so clumsy but _holy shit,_ it was awesome. Her whole body tingled.

When they broke away, Bell's hands never left Yana, lingering where they had come to rest on the back of Yana's head. Their foreheads pressed together and they breathed hard.

"I still...hate you," Bell whispered.

"I'm okay with that," Yana replied. She touched Bell's cheek. "Why do this, then?"

Bell didn't answer at first, which was okay, because Yana was wondering about something else as well — the miracle of Bell pressing faintly into Yana's touch. Then Bell sighed.

"I'm lonely," she said. "I came to this party worrying that too many people would be looking at me. But the only time anyone noticed that I existed was...was when I was up there, with you."

Yana wasn't sure what to say. Sorry didn't really cut it. Bell let out a longer second sigh and lifted her hand to cover Yana's.

"I think, besides my mom and dad, this is the first time anyone's said they like me," Bell admitted. "It sounds so stupid, but, heh, it almost makes me want to forgive you for tormenting me every time you saw me."

"Will concede on the stupid part," Yana replied. "I hope you don't do that."

"I won't. You're still a cunt."

"Thanks."

Bell kissed her again. It was rough and there was definitely a note of the "you're still a cunt" in it, but it was something, at least.

"You know," Yana smirked when they pulled apart, "if you're still hell-bent on never seeing me again after tonight, I can just finish washing and drying your pants now, and you can go home when they're done. The house is empty, there's plenty to do in the meantime."

Bell raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

Yana shrugged. "Dunno. Mistakes you can only make when you're in high school."

"You mean to say, illegal alcohol."

Another shrug. "Doesn't have to be."

Bell hesitated as she thought, pressing her lips together. But when she looked back at Yana, there were sparks in her eyes — twin lights, young and new and cautious.

"Okay," said Bell. "I want to make a mistake. Let's do this."


End file.
